Eleven Years
by Katrina Puffinstuf
Summary: Hermione Granger encounters a one-night stand with Severus Snape. Soon after, the man seems to disappear off the face of the earth, leaving her alone to handle an extraordinary burden that neither of them had ever planned for.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing of JKRs or any of her amazing plots/characters... and yes, I have, again, ruthlessly stolen little tidbits from Greys Anatomy. Just one so far, though :)**

**for all those still reading, 'Divisions', don't worry! I have the ending written... in fact, I have two endings, and I am not sure if I ought to submit both. One is funnier and more open ended, the other is more serious and not as happy-ending like... I think I may submit one as an 'alternate ending'. You tell me what you want, maybe? **

**Enjoy!**

Chapter One:

Year Minus One

This story begins on a cold night in mid-December, at a bar in Hogsmeade that travelers often avoid–The Hogs Head Pub. It was something out of what Muggles would call "a Hallmark card"–white tufts of snow laying softly and quietly on the roof of the pub, smoke puffing merrily out the chimney; you could even imagine the silhouettes of people inside talking and joking happily, without a care in the world. It was the perfect scene for a nice Christmas card to be mass produced and used to send to relatives and friends around the holidays.

The inside atmosphere of the bar was far from family-friendly, and for good reason. One thing that anyone should know about the Hogs Head is that you go there for one of two reasons–one, you know that Aberforth, the bartender, fancies brewing his own firewhiskey (the alcohol by volume is equal to that of moonshine) or two–you don't want to be found. Ironically, my reason was neither–my reason was an investigation of a man named Severus Snape, although, to be fair, Aberforth's firewhiskey is rather tempting (and it played a key role in events that later ensued that night).

At the time, I was in training to become an Auror, and let me tell you, it is nothing exciting when there are no Azkaban escapees to track down or Voldemorts to combat. I was sent to figure out what illegal Potions that my old professor was brewing this time around. After the fall of Voldemort, he seemed to have fallen into the foul graces of many of his old Death Eater friends, only coming to find that he could share good graces with them again if he brewed them illegal Potions. Being an adept brewer, he could brew hallucinogenic potions, which would have the same effects as LSD or acid, but conveniently disguised as kitchen cleaner and a good deal more potent. He could brew effective poisons and sell them on the magical black market, making a great deal more money for himself than Hogwarts was offering him. His shady business had allowed him a cozy life in his dumpy cottage at Spinner's End, which he claimed was his home base for researching a cure for magical ailments for victims of the Cruciatus curse. While this seemed like a noble effort on Snape's part, we felt it was safe to assume that he was little more than a petty drug trafficker. However, Aurors cannot arrest based on mere assumptions, and that's where I came into the picture.

I was sent into the shady little Pub in the guise of an attractive blonde woman a little closer in age to his own, thanks to Polyjuice Potion. In my disguised form, I was to make a deal with him and buy some illicit substance off of him. Surely, this would not be so easy, as I was dealing with Severus Snape, here–he was one of the most brilliant wizards alive, after all. Therefore, I would use another tool to make his little Potions-peddling business crumble–alcohol. I had taken a decent swig of the Drought of the Sober before I had left the Ministry, which would allow me to engage in whatever drinking games that he would play with me without the effects of alcohol touching me. Still, the alcohol would effect him, which was exactly what I was going for. A drunken Snape was definitely more apt to give up the secrets of his trade rather than a sobered one.

I had followed him into the bar, nudging into him brashly as I passed. As he turned around to admonish me, I said, "Sorry, hun," in a the most tart, sluttish voice that I could muster. I flashed him a smile and then took a seat at the bar. He did not say anything back, and his eyes were passive. Clearly, this was going to be a little harder than I expected.

Trying to arouse his attention, I took my robes off and hung them over the back of the chair at the bar, taking the seat. I could feel eyes all over me, and I fought the urge to blush. I was wearing a low cut shirt, and my new expansive breasts decidedly spilled out of them–a woman that could wear a shirt like this must not be blushing, since she was probably used to the idea of men scanning her every inch. The normal me, however, would not have been caught dead in such attire.

Snape took the seat that was two away from mine at the bar, and ordered a double scotch, single malt. Knowing I would have to show the man more than skin to get his attention, I said to Aberforth, "Make that two, and it's on me."

The dark haired man turned to me and raised an eyebrow–finally, a reaction, something I could work with. He scanned me, stopping for a moment on my absurd amount of cleavage and then coming back to my make-upped face. "A girl like you ought to be ordering a Firewhiskey sour... and now you are buying _me_ a drink."

"Well, normally that's your job, mister," I said, flirting with him blatantly, "but I couldn't help but notice that we have the same favorite drink."

"I've never met a woman that liked scotch," he said, face still somewhat passive. "Then again, I don't meet many women in this bar, at all. Which means you are here for one of two reasons–you are looking to bring some money back to your pimp or you are, too, unwilling to be found."

"If you think I'm from the street, think again," I said, unable to stop from blushing at his hard words. "And I suppose I'm looking for a person that could... get something for me that I might not be able to find in the local apothecary."

At this, I knew I had hit the jackpot–the man turned his face to me and said, "Yes... I believe I can help you with what you are looking for." He brushed his hair out of his eyes and said, "I know a man who is known for his expertise in Potions work. What are you looking for... hallucinogens, uppers, downers, sexual enhancement, poisons, venoms, or perhaps something a little different that I haven't mentioned?"

_Perfect_, I thought to myself. _Perhaps I won't even have to work so hard to get the answers out of him. _"I'm looking for something to induce the effects of heroin on a middle aged male."

"Muggle?" asked Snape quickly as he drank his scotch.

"Of course not," I spoke with a smile. "If it were a Muggle, it could kill him couldn't it?"

"Precisely," he said. "And if you wanted to do something like that, I know where you could choose from an extensive assortment of poisons that would not leave a trace on the body."

"Interesting," I said with a coy smile. "You really do have your connections, don't you?"

"You can think of it like that, yes," he said in a somewhat suggestive tone. He finished his scotch and promptly ordered another. I did the same, downing the rest of the horrendous substance in a pinch. As I took a gulp of my second drink, he said, "My, my, we _are_ living dangerously tonight. You are a rare breed of witch... I feel as if you are daring to keep up with me."

I downed the second glass before he could do the same to his, ordering another. A smirk plastered my rouged lips and I said, "Make the next one Firewhiskey, Abeforth, we need to up the stakes, here..." I turned to my new drinking partner saying, "And I think you are keeping up with me, Mr..."

"My name is Evan Callaghan," said Snape, holding out his hand to me. I took it saying, "Amanda Salisbury, and I'm glad to have met you." I found it ironic that we both were posing as other people, and yet, I knew precisely who he really was. It was somewhat satisfying, pulling one over on my clever old teacher.

"Right, Mrs. Salisbury," he said. "Shall we get down to business?"

Ah, this was a clever trick. He had pretended to assume that I had a husband, so that I would, naturally, correct him, saying that I was single and unattached to a man, which would further solidify his prospects of sharing a bed with me. To rope him in further, I said, "Not married, not involved," showing my left hand to him, devoid of any sort of ring. "And we don't need to necessarily be all about the business, here..."

"Indeed," he said, a sort of growl in his deep voice. Clearly, he was loosening up a little, which meant that the alcohol was fast at work. I made sure to keep downing those unusually tasty little drinks, and soon I found that he was loosening up even more, telling me things that I felt rather uncomfortable hearing.

"Oh, Hogwarts... if I had stayed there, I would have been made into a convict... the girls that run around there... no, I don't mean the twelve year olds, I am the furthest thing from a pedophile... I mean the ones that are just barely underage... wearing their skirts too short, trying to attract attention from their male counterparts... it got my attention, I'll say..."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure," I said, feigning drunkenness, amazed at his use of verbiage despite his intoxication. "Those little sluts..."

"If only I could have gotten to them just after graduation, I would have been satisfied... never really went through with it... I'll admit that Pansy Parkinson was more than willing... but she wasn't who I had in mind at all..." he said through slurred speech. He hiccuped loudly saying, "no, this particular student was the furthest out of reach... not even in my own house."

"Probably a Gryffindor, with your luck, eh?" I giggled, touching him on the shoulder. On the inside, the real Hermione was quivering to know who this girl was that he lusted for. To be perfectly honest, I had a slight crush on the man in my sixth year, always thinking that he seemed to get a raw deal, pitying him, while thinking he was rather hot at the same time in some lewd way.

"Well, I am not going to name names," he said, his breath reeking of the drink, "but she was a brilliant girl...should have been a Ravenclaw, but she was awfully annoying and too brash to focus all of her energies on wit. Gorgeous, though... innocent... sweet... brunette... it was like she _knew_ I was looking at her, but didn't let on, which was so incredibly _alluring_ to me that it was nearly irresistible... and I do prefer brunettes over any other, no offense, my dear..."

"None taken," I said, hiding the surprise in my tone. He didn't need to name names... I knew this Gryffindor girl that he spoke of all too well. At this point, I felt it was important to return to the business aspects of our conversation. "So, about the potion you are going to set me up with?"

"Darling, potions are the furthest thing from this man's mind, at present" he said, sidling closer to me, somehow keeping his balance. He breathed into my ear saying, "Follow me into the second door to the right of the washrooms... we'll talk about business in there."

That being said, he turned on his heel, stumbling slightly, and strode into the room he mentioned. I waited a solid five minutes at the bar, talking to others, before following Snape into the room. I felt a little more out of my comfort zone, being alone with the man, for a variety of reasons. Firstly, I was jeopardizing my safety by removing the buffer of other people. Next, I had a certain soft spot for the potioneer, even though he was flooding the black market with illicit products. Worse yet, the Draught of the Sober seemed to be wearing off, and I felt the alcohol beginning to nag at my body.

I turned the handle to the doorway and opened it, finding that a ratty-one room furnished apartment lay behind it. The man was standing against the wall, clearly waiting for my arrival. In the dim light, he seemed to give off this air of mystery that tickled my fancy a little too much. I smiled deeply as the heat in my face seemed to permeate throughout my entire body. He said something, and then I felt his hands on me and his lips upon mine.

Yes, the alcohol was taking hold, now, and I found that I was laying down on a mattress with my top off, the man possessing my mouth voraciously. What was more was that I found it somewhat enjoyable as his hands explored this body that was not my own, and his arousal was feeding my own. He had worked his hand up my skirt and pushed it upwards, exposing me nearly completely. Before I could protest, he began touching me in that general area, and the way it felt overcame my aversion to this situation altogether. As I found myself working his belt buckle, it happened.

Within a moment, I could feel my hair becoming longer and frazzled, my breasts shrinking and my legs shortening. The Polyjuice was wearing off, and I had neglected to drink enough to last more than an hour in the room. It had been just over an hour, and now I was half-exposed on a bed, leaving no room for the imagination–it would be clearly apparent that I had changed back into my original form once he turned the lights on.

I tried to force my way out from under him, but he took this as eagerness and plunged into my body with a force that must've shredded my insides, it was so painful, though that didn't last long. Moments later, I was stifling my pleasured moans as the man licked my neck and bit upon my earlobes, heaving onto me with virility and strength. The smart, intelligent part of my brain was overcome by the small fraction of it that this basal, lustful desire oozed from, and it didn't seem all that necessary to stop him from continuing.

And when it ended, he collapsed onto me, his head buried in my hair as he gulped in air, panting. Clearly, he hadn't noticed that the girl that he had just climaxed with was no longer the busty blonde, but a certain brainy brunette from his past that he, apparently, had a certain fondness for. He would never notice that if I could help it any. I groped in the darkness for my wand, my intent being to modify his memory so that he did not remember my face, if he did happen to see it.

As my hand closed around the grip of the wand, several things happened at once: Snape, clad in nothing but his trousers, flipped on the light (luckily, his back was turned to me). Then, there were four extraordinarily loud cracks, and I found four of my fellow Aurors surrounding Snape with their wands raised, shouting. There was another resounding crack, and the man that the Aurors had come to arrest was gone.

Later, at the Ministry, my encounter with Snape seemed to be a running joke in the Auror department. A lot of them said that I was good for "taking one for the team" and teased me about the length that I would go to get information out of someone, although it was all in good humor. Since I was still only in training, the other Aurors were sent to retrieve me and finish the job that night if one of two things happened–if my Polyjuice wore off or if I sent a signal for help. Naturally, when my Polyjuice wore off, they waited about fifteen minutes and then went in to assist me. Of course, when they caught me naked on the bed after Snape had Disapparated, they all were concerned and then rather disconcerted. It all ended as a laugh, still. Poor little Hermione really got fucked on the job, quite literally.

And then, three months later, my yearly check-up revealed that I was pregnant. My life was turned upside-down.


End file.
